In the Arms of the Enemy’s Brother
“I know.”
Liam had brought a gift for Astrid, a little silver locket with a tiny star engraved on it. “For when she’s older,” he said. I hugged him. It felt strange, but good. Like closing a door that had been left open for too long.
Later that night, as we drove home with Astrid asleep in her car seat, Roman reached over and took my hand. “Thank you,” he said. “For what?”
“For being the bigger person. For forgiving him. For making tonight work.” I squeezed his hand. “We’re a team. We handle things together.” He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it reached his eyes.